


the words You place in my throat

by pearwaldorf



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2776286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf/pseuds/pearwaldorf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five drabbles about Cullen, songs, words, and prayers.</p>
<p>Spoilers through In Your Heart Shall Burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the words You place in my throat

He sings softly as he goes about his duties in the Circle. He wants to be the best templar that he can be, and he’s sure that bringing the beauty of the Maker’s praise into a place as grim as this giant tower is part of that. He’s pleased to hear that the sound reflects well off the stone, and he raises his voice. He sees someone out of the corner of his eye, watching him sing. It’s one of the elven apprentices. She flashes a smile at him and disappears. He hopes she might come listen to him again.

—

The screaming is terrible, but the silence is even worse. It is then that he can hear the harsh rasp of his breath, the rush of blood in his ears as he wonders how long this purgatory will last. He’s alone now. Perhaps that is his punishment: to hear the suffering of all his fellows before he, too, is finally dispatched. Maker, the screaming’s starting again. He chokes down a sob and takes a deep breath.

His mouth is dry, but he shapes his stubborn tongue around the words. “O Maker hear my cry / Guide me through the blackest nights…”

—

The Hanged Man is jumping tonight. He would have preferred that it was quiet, but an ale is an ale. He catches the eye of one of the Champion’s companions, the pirate, and somehow there’s a diamondback game, awful whiskey, and truly terrible singing. And then the worst hangover in memory. 

He asks for the Champion’s help in clearing out a nest of abominations on the coast, but she won’t agree until she hears a verse of the filthiest tavern ditty he knows. She leans on her staff, enjoying his pain.

“Isabela seemed to think you sang it quite well.”

—

He freezes when he first hears Mother Giselle’s voice. It has been a long time since he has heard these songs without sweating and trembling and wanting to hide from the memories they dredge up. Leliana picks up the melody, clear and surprisingly sweet, then Josephine, and the rest of the crowd. 

He straightens his back, closes his eyes, and the words come back to him with force and purpose, his voice twining and harmonizing with everybody else’s. Together the Inquisition is greater than the sum of their parts, and they declare their defiance and purpose to the heavens themselves.

—

There’s a freshness to the breeze that floats into his office at Skyhold. Sunlight floods in from the doorways, thrown open for the first tentative rays of spring warmth. There are hard days of course, but they make him cleave to the good days even more. He has steady hands and steady friends now, and he is learning to let them hold him when he falters. There is no shame in that.

There’s a great deal of work to be done, but he does not mind. As he looks over reports and tasks to delegate, he whistles a jaunty tune.


End file.
